thecapitol | Out tonight

Entry tags:

Out tonight

Who| Ian and open
What| Partying. And by partying we mean coming down off his two week binge of trying to forget the arena
Where| Bars, clubs, the streets of Panem
When| Current, at night/early morning
Warnings/Notes| Underage? drinking (not sure on the drinking age of Panem), drugs, breakdowns

He had told himself he was fine. He had died, woke up, got a shower and went out. Breezy pausing only to check the death toll. Blaine and Kurt had survived, they must have escaped. Well at least his dead hadn't been completely in vain. His escort had even congratulated him for fighting back, like they had expected him to just lie down and die. He had smiled and headed to a bar. He had just died, he figured he deserved a drink.

One drink had led to another, and one club had led to another, he had veered off from the main clubs by the tribute tower and had found a few ones that played decent music. Nothing he knew of course, but heavy and angry, matching his mood.

That had been two weeks ago, he had slept at times. Either back in the tower or wherever he found himself. Not always alone. Being alone was painful, as was being sober or not being high. He had all the money he wanted and so he spent it on forgetting.

Somewhere deep down he knew he was acting like Frank and it sickened him, a burning hatred that reared up whenever he was sober enough to think. Though he had always drank, and smoked shit it was never serious, just mucking about with Mandy or Lip. He had wanted to be an Officer, or if he couldn't be, his GPA was not the best, join the army and work his way up. It had kept him focused, kept him training, kept him out of the worst of trouble.

He didn't have that anymore, or more he had it in a twisted nightmare form. An eternal soldier, unable to die, not fighting for any cause just for entertainment. Killed and revived on the sick whims of a crazy futuristic society. It wasn't going to change, and they weren't going to escape, shit like that didn't happen. The Capitol had no reason to change, this worked for them. So what was the fucking point of trying anymore? So he had stopped trying, stopped thinking and everything had become so much easier.

Tonight was a night like the nights before, he moved from club to club, going with the crowds. Not knowing where he was, not caring. Escaping from his own head, because everything was shit and finding a way to make it not shit would involve far too much thinking.

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"Not drunk," was her reply, extending a hand to him. Yeah, fogginess was getting clear, he was a guy from the games all right. No doubt trying to forget for a little bit, not that she could blame him.

"Don't yak on me, just trying to steady you up. Seem like a good night to, I dunno, 'mingle?'"

God, she sucked at this. She seriously hoped he wouldn't puke on her though.

"Fuck you, I'm not drunk." He was glad of her hand though, and promised himself he wouldn't throw up on her. Wouldn't be a nice way to repay her.

He laughed, finding the word mingle hilarious, for no known reason. "Yeah? And hows that going for you?"

Man did she know how much THAT was a lie. Still, he was trying, what the hell?

"I bet," she said, steadying him. "Look at me. I'm fucking stale off death. How do YOU think I'm doing?"

"Fuck, tipsy then," she said, rolling her eyes. The symptoms were there man, come on. She was still holding him up though. "But where I'm from that shit still means 'drank a lot of alcohol.'"

She snickered. "I'm holding you up, dude, what do you think? Must be the impending death on my head. Guess that messes with my idea of fun."

"Impending death is loads of fun." He told her, swaying in her hands but trying to stand up on his own, he knew he was heavy. "Look at this fucking place, it thrives off it."

She waved a hand. "Adjusting. First time here, and I get thrown into an arena. Then you gotta gather all the bits and pieces from people not wanting to immediately kill you, then you have to not die. I was sorta hoping for a little bit of a quieter life if I had to be pulled out of mine, you know?"

"Quiet lives are overrated. You'd be bored." He grinned, he had no idea what her life had been like. She seemed young but sort of like Debs, tough. She wasn't running in circles screaming after her first arena anyways and that was something.

Thinking of her like Debs made him make more of an effort to stand up, no kid should have to support drunken louts.

Mindy laughed. It was biter sounding, a touch resentful, but also amused, knowing full well that if a joke, a really bad one, had been played on her, she should have expected it to begin with.

"You know, you might be right. The more I think about it, more I wonder if that's why I'm here. School and cliques and all that shit, that never really seemed like me the more I think about it."

"School." He was stood up properly now and he let go of her, "Yeah that was a thing once." He had actually stuck in at school, though it had always been just a means to an end. He needed the grades to have any chance of being an officer. "If you wanted something more though," He waved his arm around, "This place isn't exactly a good alternative."

Mindy shrugged. "Home schooled. Dad had to teach me other things, and that shit takes more time than I can waste doing any of that stuff they try to shove on you. Didn't expect this place would have any kind of proper school except not to die. Guess I better depend on my...whatever, mentor, I guess? For that part."

She watched him right himself, nodding. "You go bad in this one?"

"Oh." He shrugged, not sure what to say to that. Her dad was probably some guy with loads of advanced skills he wanted to teach, send her to college at the age of thirteen or some shit. Probably intense, at least he cared.

"Yeah, or just ask around, will be plenty who will help you." Give her more of a chance, get her out of this hellish cycle. They better help her.

"Is there a good way to go?" He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It wasn't as bad as the first time, got killed by my fucking childhood hero. Twisted as fuck." This time at least he had had time to fight, but he was done. Sick of their games, in the Arena and out.

Yeah, her dad was a cop. A regular old cop with a very, very bad vendetta against the mob that screwed him over. It was a really weird and morbid origin story, but whatever worked, right?

"I'll do that when I got my ass out of the training room," she said. "For some reason, preparing myself not to die seems more applicable to me than doing math and science. Go figure."

Now this should be interesting. "Ok, then I gotta ask: who was it? I already saw a Ninja turtle creeping around here. It wasn't Donatello, was it?"

Better than your dad actually being your uncle and your whole family being screw ups.

"Hey science could be useful, last arena had a candy theme, sugar fucking explodes good."

He shrugged, "Yeah, we come from the same world it seems." If she recognised him as being a Ninja turtle, or perhaps Ninja turtles just existed beyond borders of worlds, or something.

"Not as cool in real life, I have to say."

Mindy didn't need her family to be screw ups. That was what that whole clan of dumb ass teenagers trying to do what she did were for.

"I'm gonna hope when you said tat about sugar, the fucking was used to describe how it exploded," she said, grinning. "I have enough nightmares to think about."

She shrugged. "Maybe its a different incarnation. Doubt it was that 80's one though. This Donatello seems pretty fucked up. You know what's even more messed up though? That guy is in my district."

He grinned, "Yeah," she was funny, or perhaps he was just drunk enough to have the humour of a twelve year old.

"You'll be best avoiding him, not sure if he was that fucked up before they threw him in the arenas, but he's worse than most." And not just because he had killed Ian. He'd spoke to him out of the arena, and that had been worse.

The name of the game, always, was information to her. It didn't matter how, or why, or when but the more he understood about this place, the better prepared she was going to be. No point in going into this with her eyes blind.

"Wait, what's he like outside of the arena? Like, what more can he say?"

"Not sure, what's he said to you already?" He hadn't said anything to Ian inside the arena, just appeared in the night and killed him.

"He's just all about how the games prevent war and it would be worse without them, all that shit."

"I haven't had to talk to him yet," Mindy confessed. "If we met, I'd probably be at a disadvantage anyway: I mean, he IS a ninja, right? One that, I guess, is totally fine with killing a whole lot of people."

At this, she frowned. "Yeah, that's the rumor. I'd love to know how now slaughtering us over and over again prevents a war though."

"Yeah, like any of these fuckers could fight a war anyways." He had never seen wealth like there was in the Capitol, at least not in real life. At least not close up.

"But that's what they all believe."

"They don't have to be good in a war. All they have to do is be scared shitless that it'll ever happen. So long as they hold the keys, that's the real thing that'll keep things the same way."

Honestly, the only way to make any of this not a waking nightmare would be a direct terrorist action. That, considering how tightly watched this place was, would take some time.

"Yeah." He shrugged, "Exactly. It's all a fucking lie spread by fear." If Lip were here he'd have some far flung theory about it all, he was good on government motives.

"I'm guessing your latest death wasn't a barrel of laughs," she said, which any idiot could tell by his intoxicated state. "Gotta say though, seeing you beats meeting up with more Capitol propaganda. Hell, even hearing that bitch Azula talk is better than the 'for the greatest good' shit touted about the games."

"Which deaths are." He shrugged, "It was no worse than most." He had got to fight it, he guessed that counted for something.

"Don't know Azula, but anyone who doesn't talk crap is good in my book."

"Point," Mindy said, shaking her head. "I mean, I died, but I guess it could have been worse. I mean, I could have bled to death after a few hours. It felt pretty fucking bad to start with."

She grimaced. "I remember her, all right. Black hair, looks about just reaching teenage hood, golden eyes. Probably one of the most evil people I know. I hate her. Gonna see if I can coax her to do Pilates with me next Tuesday."

The last part was obviously a lie.

"She kill you?" She seemed to hate her enough that she had. Or perhaps they had just fought. He smirked at the last bit.

"Invite Donatello and I'm in."

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